Christmas In Space
by JadziaKathryn
Summary: A collection of the senior staff's experiences one Christmas. Complete!
1. T'Pol

A/N: Here is my Christmas collection: short stories set sometime after season four, ignoring the finale.

Disclaimer: I don't own what you recognize. But I can dream, right?

**T'Pol: Mistletoe **

Taking into account human sentimentality, the arrangements made for Christmas were logical. Due to escalating conditions with the Romulans, and the omnipresent threat of war, it seemed unwise to have a Christmas partywhich would distract the entire crew. This was simply unacceptable, especially to her bonded husband. So T'Pol had suggested rendezvousing with the _Columbia_. On Christmas Eve, the _Columbia_ would host a Christmas party for half of each ship's crew. Then on Christmas Day, _Enterprise_ would host a party for the rest of the crews.

She and Trip, along with Dr. Phlox, were the members of _Enterprise_'s senior staff who pulled "Christmas Eve" out of the Santa hat. After several Christmases spent with humans, T'Pol was no longer surprised by Santa hats.

Nor was she surprised by mistletoe. Therefore, she stopped before entering the mess hall. There was no mistletoe over the door, so she entered. Despite the swags of garland that hung from the ceiling, she was able to locate the mistletoe quickly.

"So, where is it?" asked Trip, who found her aversion to mistletoe – or rather, what it signified – somewhat entertaining. He knew that she meant every word of their marriage vows, both human and Vulcan. She was discomforted by public kissing, however.

"In each of the four corners," she replied. "Is this a usual place for mistletoe?"

"Well, there aren't any specific rules about where mistletoe goes, but stickin' it in the corner isn't my favorite place."

She raised an eyebrow slightly and allowed him to lead her to the drinks. In carefully labeled pitchers were holiday drinks: eggnog and mulled cider, both available in alcoholic and non-alcoholic varieties. Trip, aware of her preferences, poured her a cup of non-alcoholic cider. He then proceeded to pour himself alcoholic eggnog.

"Please remember that it is most unpleasant for me when you are inebriated." It strained her mental control nearly to the breaking point when he had overindulged at Lieutenant Reed's 'bachelor party.'

He set down the pitcher and picked up the non-alcoholic eggnog. "One cup of half 'n' half, then I'll switch to plain, okay?"

She nodded. It was an agreeable compromise. Taking a sip of her cider, she surveyed the room. _Columbia_'s mess hall was draped in many meters of garland, and she wondered how they managed to justify having such an amount. Christmas decorations on _Enterprise_ were largely makeshift.

Soft instrumental music was playing, and although she did not recognize the music, it was presumably Christmas-oriented. T'Pol wondered if many of _Columbia_'s crewmembers opted not to attend either Christmas celebration. Only two people from _Enterprise_ had chosen to forego the celebration. Even crewmembers with no strong attachment to religion were enthusiastic about Christmas.

Over the table containing various snack foods hung a wreath. It appeared to be fashioned out of scraps from the quartermaster's stock, and the blue of Starfleet uniforms dominated the color scheme.

Trip selected a cookie in the shape of a snowman. T'Pol had never seen a snowman, and in truth it was not high on the list of things she would like to see in her life. Nonetheless, Trip was excited by the detail of the decoration, so she looked at the cookie in an attempt to appreciate it.

"Even the coal eyes are realistic!" he exclaimed.

"I am surprised that this many cookies are available, considering the detail put into the individual decoration," she said after a moment.

"Of course, you don't even want a sugar cookie."

"Not especially."

"You can't just eat the veggie platter at a Christmas party!"

Although only Trip would know, she found his indignation amusing. "I believe," she said after a moment, "I will try a small gingerbread man." Other than the occasional thin slice of pecan pie, she did not embrace sugary foods as Trip did, but she had never eaten a gingerbread man, and Ensign Sato insisted that they were 'scrumptious beyond belief.'

She selected a cookie. It had raisin eyes, a thin frosting mouth, and a substance she did not recognize arranged as boots. "Trip?"

"Hmm?" he replied through a mouthful of sugar cookie.

"What is this?" she pointed to the unknown substance.

He swallowed and bent over for a closer look. "Chopped up dates. You might like 'em. They're sorta like raisins, only, well, not."

"That is not a very helpful description, but I will try it." Carefully, so as not to touch other cookies, she picked up her selection.

Trip watched while she bit off a foot and tasted the dates. "Whatcha think?"

"It is," she said after swallowing, "an agreeable cookie."

"Commanders!" Dr. Phlox called out. "Happy Christmas!"

"Have you been talkin' with Malcolm again?" inquired Trip in his mock serious voice. "'Cause the rest of the world says 'Merry Christmas.'"

"That is yet another subject on which they cannot agree," added T'Pol.

"Ah, yes. Well, are you enjoying yourselves?"

"Yep. We sure are," replied Trip. A new song began to play, and he smiled. "'Hark the Herald Angels Sing.' We sang this a lot when I was a kid. Never could hit the high notes after I was thirteen, though."

"This is a pleasant party. I recommend the mulled cider," suggested T'Pol.

Phlox took a cup and poured some non-alcoholic cider for himself. Seeing this, Trip feigned horror. "You're missin' the good stuff!"

"I assure you, Commander, that this is perfectly 'good stuff.'" With that, Phlox was off to greet new arrivals.

"Let's get this party started!" announced a lieutenant from _Columbia_ whom T'Pol did not recognize. "Alright folks, we've got our first victims!"

Suddenly T'Pol found that all eyes were on her and Trip. "Are we under mistletoe?" she asked him, allowing him to sense her trepidation.

He looked up. "Clever. It can roll on the garland."

"That may be clever, but it is also nefarious."

He chuckled. "Well, that may be takin' it a bit too far."

"Alright, you two," called out a voice from the crowd.

T'Pol began to utter her refusal, but Trip spoke instead. "We're gonna kiss, alright," he said. His mental assurance calmed her somewhat, but she was still concerned. "But," he continued, "we're gonna do it Vulcan style."

While she had never before appreciated the expression 'Vulcan kiss,' T'Pol was glad that Trip had coined the term. Lifting her hand, she extended two fingers to meet Trip's. Onlookers were disappointed, but the crewmembers from _Enterprise_ were hardly surprised. Brushing their fingers, she sensed his amusement and consideration for her concerns more strongly. Contact strengthened their bond, and when they broke their fingers apart, she found that she had not minded their turn under the mistletoe very much after all.


	2. Trip

**Trip: Carols**

Trip was glad that the captain had figured out a system that assured him and T'Pol the same Christmas party. It also worked for Hoshi and Malcolm. Quite simply, two of the "Christmas Eve" chips had been stuck together, as had two of the "Christmas Day" chips. Captain Archer had then told Trip and Hoshi to make sure that they each took a double chip when they pulled from the Santa hat.

Christmas parties, after all, were much better with your spouse. Looking over at T'Pol, who was taking a delicate sip of her cider, Trip smiled. It was their first Christmas as a married couple, and he loved every minute of it.

"Okay, who's ready for Christmas carols?" asked one of the crewmembers from _Columbia_ who was hosting the event. A cheer went up from the crowd. "We'll start with 'Deck the Halls,' and then Ensign Foley has a special treat for us.

Trip didn't know Ensign Foley, but he'd heard that _Columbia_'s linguist was going to sing 'Adeste Fidelis' and that sounded promising.

"Remember Hoshi's Klingon version of 'Jingle Bells' last year?" he asked T'Pol. He had hardly recognized the traditional carol, but it had been great fun.

T'Pol raised her eyebrow in the manner that meant she was vaguely amused. "I do not believe I will ever forget that."

Their reminiscing was cut off by the start of singing. "Deck the halls with boughs of holly…" sang Trip with gusto. T'Pol didn't sing, but she watched the Christmas cheer around her with a certain sense of satisfaction.

Not being human or knowing the words didn't stop Dr. Phlox from singing carols. He whipped out a padd with lyrics and was soon singing with the rest of them. "Fa la la la la…" Oooh, he might be a miracle worker in Sickbay, Trip decided, but he'd better not quit his day job.

"Ensign Foley is now going to sing 'Adeste Fidelis,'" announced the emcee.

"What language is that?" asked T'Pol.

"Latin, I think." He thought for a second. "Yeah. Definitely Latin. In English, we sing 'O Come All Ye Faithful.'"

The ensign appeared in the front of the room with a scarf of garland around his neck. "Mariah said that coming up in my regular uniform wasn't festive enough," he explained. The crowd chuckled. "Anyway, here goes." He took a deep breath and began. "Adeste fidelis, laeti triumphantes…"

His singing voice was good, and Trip thoroughly enjoyed his solo. When Foley bowed, his garland scarf came undone and he left the improvised stage laughing.

"O little town of Bethlehem how still we see thee lie…" began the emcee, and the crowd was off again. Trip, who had since childhood loved Christmas carols, knew all the words. He wasn't especially good at singing, not like some people, but he wasn't terrible either. T'Pol was watching him enjoy himself, and he could feel that she was content.

"Now Ensign Rochers is going to sing us the French version!"

Ensign Rochers was a tall brunette who worked with Malcolm in the armory. She had a sweet singing voice, and her rendition was quite moving. "…Mais Jésus entre, bienvenu, dans les plus humbles coeurs."

After a moment of transitional silence, the emcee began again. "Okay folks, we've got a special surprise for you. It only works with one song, though, and I'm sure you can help me out. O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree…" Trip again took up singing enthusiastically, so caught up in the festivities that it was easy to ignore Phlox's off-key caroling.

_Columbia_'s chef wheeled out a masterpiece. It was a Christmas tree cake. Still singing, everyone crowded around the cake. It was nearly a meter tall, and it looked remarkably like a live Christmas tree. The cake was green, with all colors of frosting making up garland, lights, ornaments, and what appeared to be a marzipan star at the top.

Right after 'O Christmas Tree' finished, Crewman Müeller began 'O Tannenbaum.' Two syllables into it, someone from _Columbia_ joined her in the German classic.

"It's just not the same in English," explained Müeller once they finished.

"Not even close," added the other German-speaking singer.

The cake cutting was about to start. Trip darted over to the shelf where he'd left his camera and snapped a picture before the knife slid into the gorgeous confection. While the cake was being sliced, Trip took the opportunity to get some great candid shots. He was especially pleased with the picture of T'Pol with her cider. Garland hung behind her head just to either side, and it almost looked like a halo, if you looked at it right.

When someone tried to hand T'Pol a piece of cake, she politely declined. "I will share Commander Tucker's."

"Sure, don't even ask first," he teased. That earned him the tingling sensation he considered a mental swat. "Oh, you know I'm gonna share everything with you, forever."

"_I_ know that," she replied. "It seems that you needed a reminder."

Laughing, Trip offered her the first bite. "Whatcha think?"

"It is an impressive feat of culinary art, but I preferred looking at it to eating it."

He took a generous bite and enjoyed it before responding. "Well, I think the eatin' is the best part."

"With confections, that is always the case."

Before he could reply, a small group of people began to sing 'We Wish You A Merry Christmas' as entertainment while the cake was being enjoyed.

"Ah," said Trip when they finished, "that's a good one."

T'Pol had a different take. "It seems rather rude."

"Rude?"

"Would not refusing to leave until 'figgy pudding' has been delivered be rude?"

"I guess I'd never thought of it that way."

"I suspected as much." She glanced around. "It would appear that the party is 'breaking up.'"

"Yep. I'm ready ta go when you are."

"You do not want to stay until the last moment?"

"Oh no. I wanna get back to _Enterprise_ and give you your present."

"I have a present for you as well. Perhaps now is a good time to leave."

Trip brought their dishes over to the crate with a sign marked 'Dirty Dishes Here!' and returned with all due speed. He then brought two fingers up.

T'Pol gracefully extended her fingers to touch his, and they made their exit.

"T'Pol?"

"Yes?"

He grinned. "Christmas Eve is just beginnin.'"


	3. Phlox

**Phlox: That Christmas Cheer**

Phlox ambled back to his Sickbay happily. He'd thoroughly enjoyed himself at _Columbia_'s Christmas party. Having two parties was deemed necessary because of the Romulan threat, but it also gave Chef and his galley crew a break. They seemed to enjoy the opportunity.

Yes, it had been a splendid evening. Phlox always liked Christmas. Human holidays had a delightful tendency to be infectious. His time spent with the Vulcans had produced no similar enjoyment for Vulcan holidays. Phlox respected Vulcans, and in fact some of the most knowledgeable physicians he'd ever worked with were Vulcans. He just didn't find their holidays terribly fun. A whole day of meditation didn't seem like much of a holiday.

Exchanging gifts, mistletoe, carols – these made for a fun holiday. To be informed, Phlox had asked Crewman O'Toole to explain the religious meaning of Christmas his first year aboard _Enterprise_. He found it somewhat perplexing that the holiday was celebrated because Christ was born, and the crewman had ended up explaining a good deal of Christianity to him. It was a good thing that she was patient. Somewhat enlightened, he was still not entirely certain he understood where the mistletoe fit into baby Jesus being born in a barn.

Some partygoers had deliberately stood under the mistletoe, while others attempted to avoid it. He found it fascinating. Commanders Tucker and T'Pol had put a unique twist on the tradition, much to T'Pol's relief and Tucker's evident delight. It was, Phlox thought, a beautiful thing. He did so enjoy the holidays!

Entering Sickbay, he prepared some hangover remedies for the morning. It was a given that some of the crew would have partaken in too much 'spiked' eggnog or cider. While he himself did not drink alcohol – Denobulans being sensitive to it and Phlox more than most – he did not have any objections to it in principle. He just wished that they would observe the rule of moderation. Commander Tucker, he noted, had come a long way in this department, notably due to the influence of Commander T'Pol.

It was their first Christmas as a married couple, a statement also true for Lieutenant Reed and Ensign – wait, she was now Lieutenant (junior grade) - Sato. Phlox had learned that around Christmas and New Year's humans often reflected on the past twelve months. The year had certainly been full of changes. In April Commanders Tucker and T'Pol wed. It was a small and private ceremony on Earth, because Commander Tucker feared repercussions if his mother was unable to attend his wedding. In the history of weddings on Earth, Phlox doubted that there had ever been such a unique one as theirs. While many aspects were human, there was also a Vulcan priestess (according to Commander Tucker, Captain Archer had 'pulled some strings' with T'Pau for that favor) and several elements of a traditional Vulcan marriage.

Then in September came the wedding of Lieutenants Reed and Sato, although she was still an ensign at the time. They had a more traditional human wedding on board _Enterprise_, with Commander T'Pol serving as the matron of honor and Commander Tucker as the best man. Captain Archer, who had just a few months prior married the commanders, now married two more of his senior staff. He had joked afterwards that he was going to have 'his part' memorized at the rate he was going.

Phlox's reflection was cut short by Captain Archer striding into Sickbay. Hopefully he hadn't hurt himself on Christmas Eve. He looked healthy, and indeed that was confirmed by his first words. "How was the party?"

"Quite delightful, Captain. I am however, prepared for a number of 'hung over' crewmembers tomorrow morning."

The captain chuckled. "A wise precaution, Doctor."

"I hope I won't have to treat you the morning after Christmas."

"So do I," deadpanned the captain. "It's bad for my image." What he didn't say, of course, was that it was bad for a captain to be inebriated with the specter of Romulan aggression. The shadow that flickered in his eyes said it for him.

"Besides," joked Phlox, trying to keep the mood light, "the last time you drank too much alcohol, I also had to treat Porthos for a terrible cheese-induced stomachache."

Captain Archer groaned. "I still say that was Trip's doing."

"And Commander Tucker still vehemently denies it."

"Anyway," said the captain in a transparent move to change the subject to a less embarrassing one, "did the crew seem to be enjoying themselves?"

"I didn't see anyone who wasn't. Did you know that Ensign Rochers has a lovely singing voice?"

After a moment, he shook his head. "She's kind of shy. I can't imagine her singing in front of a crowd. Unless…oh, no, is one of these," he pointed at the prepared remedies, "for her?"

Phlox grinned. "No, it was a planned performance. She sang a lovely French Christmas carol." A thought occurred to him. "By the way, are you familiar with 'The Restroom Door said Gentlemen?'"

"I don't know all the words, but I guess you could say I am. Why?"

"Last year several crewmembers engaged in a lively discussion of whether or not it counts as a Christmas carol."

"I remember." It was hard to forget, now that Phlox mentioned it. Malcolm argued that it was a classic. Trip proceeded to sing it for the benefit of T'Pol and Phlox. Hoshi and Travis insisted that it was amusing, but not really a classic. T'Pol pointed out that the song did not actually mention Christmas at all. Archer had observed the discussion without getting involved, and noticed that Phlox was enjoying the debate immensely.

"I found no more consensus among _Columbia_'s crew."

The captain excused himself, laughing as he walked out the door. Christmas carols, Phlox pondered as he checked on his bat, were a delightful thing. He was especially fond of 'Good King Wenceslas,' which Ensign Skalinski and Crewman Higgins had sung so beautifully the previous year.

His menagerie settled in for the night, he went off to fetch his Christmas gifts. He wasn't very skilled at wrapping them, and so he'd managed to put the task off until the last minute.

Phlox sat down to wrap gifts, singing to himself. "We wish you a Merry Christmas, We wish you a Merry Christmas…"


	4. Hoshi

A/N: I don't drink at all, so if the eggnog bit seems a little off, please nod and smile.

**Hoshi: Decorations**

The mess hall looked quite festive, especially considering the lack of actual Christmas decorations. Of course, there was the plastic mistletoe hanging in the middle of the room. In general, though, the decorations were improvised. This had turned into a matter of pride over the years; _Columbia_'s offer to loan garland had been politely declined.

Hoshi had volunteered to make the large centerpiece that went on the table amid the goodies. She'd enlisted Malcolm's help to find small pieces to put between the greens. The greens were actually made out of three different sizes of what was best described as green and fuzzy wire. It wasn't like pipe cleaner, though – it was almost as if the wire had grown furry mold, which wasn't a fun thought. At any rate, she'd picked that wire up at a market on J'Na a month before, and it had taken a long time to turn into the greens. She'd used the largest kind, and then branched out from those with the medium size, and finally the smallest wire was used to finish the look.

For adornments, Malcolm had found some small metal screws that he figured it would be alright to use so long as they were back the day after Christmas. Hoshi had put them in clumps of three. Using scraps from the quartermaster, she'd been able to fashion a realistic, if somewhat floppy, candy cane for the middle. Finally, she'd talked Chef out of a handful of cranberries that she put on the end of wire for a nice red color dotted throughout.

There was a small tree that had been given to the crew as a gift two months before. It was a darker green than traditional Christmas trees, and the needles were rectangular, but overall the effect was strikingly similar. Ensign Yao had been planning the Christmas tree since they got it. The pot was draped in a cream fabric 'tree skirt,' and the tree, which was just short of a meter tall, had a long string of popcorn swirling all the way to the top, where a large red bow sat. From the bow came six red ribbons, all reaching down to the floor.

Every window in the mess hall was framed with a string of popcorn, and Crewman Linalli had crocheted ornaments, one to hang over each window on the popcorn. A few empty boxes had been wrapped in cloth and placed at both ends of the table on the floor. As usual, they'd done very nicely with what they had.

Hoshi was very fond of Christmas decorations. They were so festive and spirited, not to mention fun.

"Here you are, one cup of boring eggnog," commented Malcolm. "I can't believe it. My wife doesn't like eggnog."

It still made Hoshi grin to hear him say 'my wife,' and he knew it, but she continued the exaggerated jest. "I like eggnog."

"That," said Malcolm, pointing to her cup, "is _imitation_ eggnog."

"I just think that the rum spoils it."

He made a show of looking hurt. "Sacrilege!"

"This from the man who was happy to see fruitcake."

"Fruitcake suffers from a bad name."

"A _well-earned_ bad name."

He rolled his eyes. "I've heard it all before. How's your bread pudding?"

"Delicious, thank you."

Just then Malcolm spotted Travis, who appeared to be deep in thought.

"Happy Christmas!" greeted Malcolm. "The eggnog is excellent."

"Merry Christmas! I was going for the cider, actually. My mom used to make mulled cider for Christmas." He finished pouring his cider and turned his attention to the desserts. "Where to start?"

"I recommend the fruitcake."

"Uh, no offense, but I'd rather have nothing."

Hoshi shot Malcolm a teasing and victorious look. "Try the bread pudding, Travis."

"I was thinking of some custard pie. It's been ages since I had custard pie." He took a slice and speared the tip with his fork. "Mmm. Good. Is that your centerpiece, Hoshi?"

"Yes," she replied proudly.

"It's nice." Any further comment Travis had on the centerpiece was cut off by the arrival of the first of _Columbia_'s crew to arrive. They were scheduled to arrive in three waves.

Hoshi, Malcolm, and Travis moved away from the table. "I didn't know Captain Hernandez was coming over here," commented Malcolm.

Travis nodded, but was unable to speak due to a mouthful of pie. Malcolm and Hoshi had to wait for him to swallow. "They drew lots just like we did."

They looked as two crewmembers from _Columbia_ found themselves under the mistletoe. After a moment of awkwardly looking at each other, they leaned forward for the briefest peck.

"Speaking of couples," began Travis.

Malcolm cut in. "You could hardly call those two a couple."

The helmsman shrugged. "Anyway, what did you two get each other?"

"Look at this!" Malcolm unzipped a pocket and produced his gift.

Hoshi sipped her eggnog while Travis eyed the small contraption. "We agreed only one gift each."

"What is it?" asked Travis.

"A jackknife. They were very popular on Earth at one point."

Travis didn't look very enlightened. "What's it do?"

"What doesn't it do? There are two different sized blades, a screwdriver, a bottle opener, a file, and a magnifying glass."

Hoshi smiled. She was glad that Malcolm liked her present. She'd had it since April, which was the last time they were on Earth. They hadn't even been married yet. It seemed recent and very long ago simultaneously. To have and to hold Malcolm was the best present she could possibly receive.

"Hoshi? What about you?"

"Malcolm got me some lovely scented massage oil." They'd tested it, too, and heartily approved.

Travis clearly decided that he didn't need any more details. "Well, I hardly recognize it in here. You can really do a lot with popcorn."

Malcolm and Hoshi chuckled at the blatant change of subject. "As long as it's not buttered," added Malcolm.

Travis looked confused. "Would Porthos be more likely to eat it?"

"It'd be harder to string," clarified Hoshi.

"Oh. We never strung popcorn on the _Horizon_. We tried to once, but we ended up eating it instead."

Captain Archer entered with Porthos, who was glancing longingly at the food table. The captain, meanwhile, had found Captain Hernandez and went over to talk to her.

"Mistletoe!" someone shouted, and everyone in the mess hall looked up to see that, indeed, the captains were standing under the mistletoe.

"Well," remarked Malcolm, "that's one way to get the party started."


	5. Travis

A/N: This is actually the idea that started the whole series, and it fits well here, so hopefully people will forgive me for not having Malcolm right after Hoshi.

**Travis: Blue Christmas**

Travis had always liked mulled cider. His mother had made it every Christmas on the _Horizon_, although it hadn't been the alcoholic kind. He was currently on his third cup of cider, and was beginning to feel the effects a bit, for which he was grateful.

He remembered Christmases on the _Horizon_. Paul had once pointed out that they got better presents than kids on Earth, because their presents couldn't be found on Earth. In retrospect, that didn't really make them better, just different, but when you're seven such distinctions don't matter. His father had always found something that could pass as a turkey-like meal, and they always had a wonderful time. The Christmas he was ten his mother had let him mash the potatoes. Even though he'd gotten potato in several places where it decidedly did not belong, that had been his job every Christmas until he left for Starfleet.

While in Starfleet Academy, he'd spent Christmases with his maternal grandmother. She lived in a condominium in Connecticut, where three out of those four Christmases had been white ones. On Christmas Eves they went to hear the Concord Symphony Orchestra. The two of them reminisced – Gran had told him stories about when his mother was young and he shared stories about Christmases on the _Horizon_. They shared a ham steak on Christmas Day, which she preferred to turkey. He still made the mashed potatoes. Those had been different than Christmases on the _Horizon_, but always fun. Gran had died shortly after he graduated, and his mother always insisted that she hung on to see him graduate.

In the present, sitting in the mess hall on _Enterprise_, he could see Hoshi and Malcolm. They were standing together, their matching wedding bands shining as wide as her smile. Malcolm was a bit more subdued, but clearly enjoying himself. He was also the only person who'd eaten any fruitcake.

At one point Travis had a crush on Hoshi. It wasn't the kind that you did anything about; rather, it was the kind where he knew that they'd never really be more than friends. He was past it before she even started seeing Malcolm.

The problem, as Travis saw it, wasn't that he was jealous of Malcolm specifically because he was married to Hoshi. It was that he had _someone_. Malcolm and Hoshi were married. Trip and T'Pol were married. Dr. Phlox had his three wives, a situation that could bring on a headache if one tried to think about it too much. Even Captain Archer had not looked the least bit unhappy at being caught under the mistletoe with Captain Hernandez.

And that left him, Travis Mayweather, alone. Christmas was a terrible time to be alone. He was happy for his friends, really. He just missed some of the old times they'd shared. Of course he still had his friends, but his friends had each other. Leann and Bill had started dating recently, and Jack was communicating with someone he'd met last time they were on Earth, leaving him even more alone in a sea of couples. It made Christmas on _Enterprise_ less fun than it had used to be, when they were all single.

Everyone was laughing, smiling, and generally having a good time. He exchanged pleasantries with Jill LePage as she entered and took another sip of cider. Currently he was torn between nixing the alcoholic version after this cup so as to prevent embarrassing himself in front of eighty-odd other people, including his captain, and throwing caution to the wind to indulge his lack of Christmas cheer.

Captain Archer walked up in front of the Christmas tree. "If I could have your attention, please." That was a request that took a whole minute to settle in. Slowly people stopped talking and turned toward the captain, who was holding what appeared to be a small box.

"Thank you." He looked out at the assembled crew and smiled. "I hope everyone is enjoying themselves."

An enthusiastic "Yes!" wasthe reply.

He smiled. "Good. I'll try not to take too long with this, but there is someone special I'd like to tell you about."

Travis had to suppress his groan. If Captain Archer started going on about Captain Hernandez, it would be time for a _lot_ more cider, and certainly the alcoholic kind, embarrassment be damned.

"This person," continued the captain, "is a credit to Starfleet and to himself."

'Himself?' Well, that threw Travis for a loop. It didn't quite make sense, and he wondered if the cider was affecting him more than he thought.

"He is cheerful, friendly, and in general a pleasure to be around. He has pulled us out of more tight situations than I can count. Sometimes I think he pulls miracles out of thin air!"

Travis thought he'd like to meet this person. Maybe he could miraculously pull the perfect woman out of thin air. Or, failing that, a single woman who was imperfect would do.

"So without further ado, ladies and gentlemen, I would like to introduce him to you." The captain paused for effect. The man could say what he wanted about his speaking skills, but he could do a killer dramatic pause. "Lieutenant Travis Mayweather."

That was him! All those nice things…wait a second. _Lieutenant?_

"Come on, Travis," urged Captain Archer, and Travis found his legs moving towards the front of the room, seemingly of their own accord. "It's my privilege to promote you to Lieutenant junior grade." He handed Travis the box, in which were stripes. "You'll want to have the quartermaster update your uniforms."

"Yes sir! Thank you!"

"You've earned it, _Lieutenant_. Congratulations."

"Travis! I thought I would burst!" exclaimed Hoshi, giving him a big hug.

"You knew about this?"

"I _am_ the Communications Officer. The captain found out two days ago, so he decided to save the news for Christmas."

"An excellent Christmas present," added Malcolm. "Congratulations, Travis."

"It _is_ a great Christmas present." He looked down at the rank stripes in the box and thought of the nice things Captain Archer had said about him. "The best," he grinned. "Not that I don't like the painting you two gave me." Malcolm and Hoshi had given him a painting of the mountain he climbed on J'Na, which reminded him of the fun climb and looked nice on his wall.

"Of course," nodded Malcolm in understanding. "Shall we have a toast?"

"A toast!" said Captain Archer from where he was trying to get Porthos to wear antlers. "Why didn't I think of that?"

"Cider, Lieutenant?" asked Hoshi.

"Sure," he agreed, wondering why he'd been so sullen just minutes before. He had great friends and the most exciting job he could imagine. "But I'll have the non-alcoholic kind. Wouldn't want to embarrass myself."


	6. Malcolm

Disclaimer: As previously stated, I don't own the characters, ships, etc. Neither do I own Rice Krispies.

A/N: Thanks to HoVis and Exploded Pen for a couple of small ideas in this chapter regarding popcorn and cheese. Also, this chapter is a little shorter than I was going for, but it just seemed finished.

**Malcolm: It Wouldn't Be Christmas Without You**

Travis was grinning wider than Malcolm had previously thought possible. Their new lieutenant was fielding congratulations from the entire room. Travis had earned his promotion through blood, sweat, and tears, and everything Captain Archer had said about him was true.

Malcolm noted with appreciation that Crewmen Johnson and Rostov had actually exchanged a few pleasant words. Ever since their breakup, they'd avoided each other like the plague. Trip had said that Rostov had been sullen every time he saw Johnson, which on a starship tended to happen with regularity. Nonetheless, the man had complimented Johnson, one of Chef's assistants, on her well-decorated sugar cookies. For her part, Johnson had graciously accepted the compliment and mentioned that she loved decorating sugar cookies. Malcolm, seeing the two of them, could almost believe that there was hope with the Romulans. Except, of course, that the Romulans weren't human. He idly wondered if they had any holidays where grievances were put aside, perhaps not to be picked up again. Judging from what he'd seen, he rather doubted it.

Crewmembers from _Enterprise_ and _Columbia_ who had never previously met were mingling and sharing Christmas stories. It was a jolly good party. There were nice decorations, which he felt some pride in because he'd helped string the popcorn. It went much more smoothly than the last year, when he'd embarrassed himself by wondering aloud where the butter was. Hoshi's centerpiece seemed to him the best decoration, but he had to admit that he was biased. Chef and his staff had done a wonderful job as well – there were even little Rice Krispie treats shaped like wreaths with red frosting bows, and delicious fruitcake, although it might have been better with a bit of cheese.

Porthos had not liked the antlers Captain Archer attempted to put on him at all. He never had liked them, but every year the captain tried to cajole his beagle into wearing them. Malcolm wasn't quite sure why, but then again he wasn't entirely sure he _wanted_ to understand why. At any rate, Porthos had finally convinced his master that he would remain antler-free, and he was happily moving from one pair of eager petting hands to the next.

_Columbia_'s Chief Engineer was wearing a Santa hat which, when the pompom at the end was pinched, laughed out 'ho ho ho.' It was a big hit, and every few minutes the deep 'ho ho ho' would sound throughout the mess hall.

In his life Malcolm had often been accused of being 'just this side of the Grinch' and 'a veritable Scrooge.' He'd found that Christmas left out people like him, and before _Enterprise_ he hadn't had a really nice Christmas since he was twelve. The last year, he had been dating Hoshi, and his Christmas spirit rejuvenated considerably. This year, when he was surely the luckiest man in the galaxy, having Hoshi Sato as his wife, Christmas seemed better than ever. Hoshi infused the holiday, like everything else in his life, with such wonder.

They'd made pancakes for Christmas morning breakfast. She even outlined a Christmas tree with peanut butter on two of them. He wasn't terribly good at making pancakes, but he did much better in the cleaning up department. After breakfast had been eaten and the cleaning taken care of, they had exchanged presents.

She was in her element at the party, laughing and smiling. They walked around the room and he could see how much she was enjoying herself. It made Malcolm, who did not as a general rule enjoy these types of parties as much as she did, happy just to see her having such a grand time.

He spent several minutes talking with _Columbia_'s Armory Officer about phase cannons, phase pistols, and other such enjoyable topics. It was a good conversation, but he caught a movement out of the corner of his well-trained eye.

"If you'll excuse me, my wife is nearing the mistletoe, and I'd like to meet her there."

"Of course," he received in reply, and he was off.

Hoshi was wearing a glittery green dress that she'd found when they were on Earth for Trip and T'Pol's wedding. It looked wonderful on her, but then, what didn't?

Captain Hernandez, who had caught on to his plan, gently began to move towards the mistletoe, bringing Hoshi in closer.

"Well," he said, "we appear to be under the mistletoe."

Hoshi looked up. "There's a tradition we can't mess with."

"Indeed. That would practically be a crime." He pulled her close, feeling the glitter on her dress against the skin his short-sleeve shirt exposed. As was his custom, Malcolm looked into her gorgeous eyes. Then he kissed her.

"Happy Christmas, Hoshi."


	7. Jon

**Jon: Santa **

Jon looked around the party, which was in full swing. Travis, still practically glowing from his promotion, was among a group of people trying to come up with a Christmas-related word for every letter of the alphabet.

"'Nog?'" someone suggested.

Lieutenant Hess disapproved. "I don't think that's a word."

"It's '_egg_nog,' but if we get desperate…" trailed off Travis.

A deep baritone piped up, "My aunt used to make nut bars every Christmas."

"'Nut bars.' Perfect!"

Meanwhile, for reasons Jon couldn't begin to comprehend, Malcolm and Hoshi were working with two of _Columbia_'s crewmembers to figure out how many bird were in 'The Twelve Days of Christmas.' They had just begun, and it was an interesting conversation to listen in on.

"Wait. If there are six geese but they're laying eggs, do we have to count potential goslings?"

"Let's assume they were simply eating the eggs." That was Malcolm.

"Well, there aren't any ganders, so that makes sense."

Hoshi moved the conversation along. "Seven swans a-swimming on the seventh, eighth, ninth, tenth, eleventh, and twelfth days. That's six days."

"Forty-two swans."

"I hope they had a big pond," noted Malcolm.

Erika made her way over to the table by Jon. "Any recommendations?" she asked, eying the display.

"Try a Rice Krispie wreath," he suggested.

She picked one up. "We used to make these for every single holiday, but we just made the bars."

"Chef likes to outdo himself. Speaking offancy food, I hear the party on _Columbia_ featured a Christmas tree cake."

"They saved me a piece. It was good, although a bright green cake is unusual."

"Ho ho ho!" sang out the Santa hat. Oh no. That might give Chef an idea.

Sure enough, he came out. "Captain Hernandez, may I have a word with Captain Archer for a moment?"

"Sure."

Porthos followed him, probably hoping that he'd found cheese. Chef had decided against a cheese and cracker display this year because, he claimed, half the cheese ended up being fed to Porthos and he didn't want to be responsible for any such thing again.

"It's time," declared Chef. He handed Jon neatly folded clothes. "Here's your outfit."

Several minutes later, Jon reluctantly emerged from a supply closet. "All these years I've worked on preserving my dignity," he sighed.

"This is _not_ going to harm your image as captain," countered Chef, who'd been through this before.

"How did I get talked into this again? Dr. Phlox would make a much better Santa."

"A Denobulan Santa Claus?" Chef rolled his eyes. "Everyone will love you. Now, do you have the candy canes?"

Resigned, he adjusted his beard and picked up the sack containing candy canes. "Right here."

Chef opened the door, and Jon peered out. Crewman Johnson, the only other person who knew about this stunt Chef had talked him into, was taking her job of keeping an eye on Porthos very seriously. Considering that she knew he was dressing up like Santa, that was probably a good sign, he thought. Then it occurred to him that she hadn't yet _seen_ him in costume. Well, the time for getting out of this particular exploit had come and gone. That ship having set sail, there was nothing to do but step out the door. Still, he hesitated.

When he thought about it, his concerns were a little strange. He'd faced down Klingons, Romulans, the Xindi, and numerous other hostile species intent on his destruction. He'd escaped alien custody so many times he'd lost count. He had brought his ship through unknown phenomena that seemed likely to tear it apart. Only Malcolm and Trip had logged more time in Sickbay and more near-death experiences. So why was he afraid of the people in the room?

He looked out again and saw many familiar faces. That was it. He had to work with half of them every day, and the other half – well, you never know.

Chef nudged him. "Go out already!"

"Alright." Jon finally walked out the door. "Ho ho ho! Merry Christmas!"

* * *

_Merry Christmas to all my readers! _


End file.
